


Pon-E Bust

by Feffernoose



Category: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feffernoose/pseuds/Feffernoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a few months since a failed attempt at making a new spaghetti sauce turned out to have a secondary effect. The addicts called it Pon-E, most likely because users were transformed into technicolor ponies for 12 glorious hours at a time. Because of the narcotic behavior of the substance, however, Pon-E is of dubious legality. This is a story of what happens when the law tries to get between a pony and his fix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Might As Well

Where did it all go wrong? Ponies. Ponies is where it went all wrong.

Sure, you never had a /luxurious/ life in any sense of the word. Lived with your parents until they kicked you out for smoking weed. Bummed off your friends until they were sick of you and you were forced to find some money of your own. Somehow managed to get a job as a gas station attendant, pumping gas for rich kids in their My Little Pony t-shirts. That’s definitely where it went wrong. Wrong-er, at least.

Did it really matter? It was all wrong, wrong from the beginning. People like you weren’t destined for anything. All your future held was endlessly trading one drug addiction for another. It wasn’t three hours ago that you called your weed dealer to find out that he had been arrested. It was getting harder and harder to get high in this city; the new mayor was calling a serious crackdown on drug users, and sources were disappearing like mayflies. You found it amazing that you could counteract withdrawal simply by getting addicted to a different drug.

You weren’t so sure about this one, however. After the news about your weed dealer, you called up your friend Pete and he excitedly told you about this new high 4chan was talking about. That should have been your first clue. In retrospect, you should’ve asked him which board. Regardless, you still showed up to the bowling alley a few hours later. Pete showed up minutes later and gave you a bro-hoof.

“Hey, how’s it been lately?” he chortles.

You smirk at him. “Cut the small talk. What’s this new drug you’re raving about? Have you actually done it before?”

He practically giggles at you, which comes as a shock. “Dude, this is the best thing you’re ever going to experience in your life. Not only that, but one high is /twelve hours long/. You’ve gotta set aside TIME to do this, baby.” He chortles again, and practically falls on you.

“Dude, seriously, are you high right now?” you ask, pushing him off. “And don’t call me baby.”

“Whatever,” he snorts. “Just follow me. I promise, you’re going to enjoy this.”

He starts walking into the bowling alley. “A-are we going inside? You mean this dealer operates /within/ the bowling alley?”

Pete giggles again. He’s really gotta stop doing that. “Everything about this is going to completely blow your mind, sister.”

You glare at him, then shrug and follow him into the alley and up to the counter. “Hey,” he whispers to the girl at the counter. “We’re here for the, uh, ponies.” The last word is whispered, and yet it clearly has an effect on the counter-girl. She enthusiastically nods her head and unlocks the maintenance door to the side to let us through.

“Down the hall and to the right,” she whispers back. Pete nods happily, and you, still confused out of your mind, decide to follow him. The door closes behind you, and you silently make your way down the well-lit hallway. Upon reaching the corner, you turn to find another staffed counter.

“You two a couple?” the counter-girl asks when you walk up.

You splutter. “N-no! What the hell?”

Pete laughs at you, and then turns to the girl. “No, we’re both going to be pets today.”

The girl nods, and you turn to stare at Pete. What the hell did that mean? The girl returns moments later with two red and black speckled pills. She hands one to you and the other to Pete.

“There are changing rooms down the hall—you can both disrobe and take your pills in there,” she says.

Pete nods enthusiastically and practically skips down the hall. You roll your eyes, and slowly make your way to your own changing room. None of this made any sense. Pete was acting like a schoolgirl, you were getting offered drugs inside a bowling alley, pets were involved somehow, and for some reason you had to be naked for it? You look down at the pill. A strong scent of tomato sauce hits your nose.

For a moment you are reminded of home.

You shake your head, and push your way into a changing room. The door closes behind you with a click. You turn around and try to open it back up. Locked.

This place was just getting freakier and freakier.

There was another door on the other side of the room, which also appeared to be locked, and a mirror on one of the other two walls. Oh well, you think. Time to see if this was worth the trouble. You slip off your clothing, and look at yourself in the mirror for a moment. Those stupid breasts. You really wish they would just… go away. You don’t even want to direct your eyes further south. It would just be too upsetting. Besides, you were supposed to be getting high, here.

You look down at the pill again. It just seemed far too ominous.

Fuck it.

You take a deep breath, and dry swallow the pill.

It feels like spaghetti squirming its way down your throat.

You stand there and look at the door to your right. Were you supposed to stay in this little room for twelve hours? How long was it going to take for this to kick in anywa—

Your thoughts are interrupted by a sudden spasming in your thigh. You fall to the ground with a grunt and look down at your legs.

Legs weren’t supposed to bend that way.

Your eyes widen as you trace the sensations up your legs and to your stomach. Orange… orange hair was sprouting all over your body. Holy shit.

“What?” you scream. “What’s going o—”

What was that.

You look down to your crotch, and your eyes widen.

What. Was. That.

You scream and jump up, but find that you can no longer balance on your legs. They feel wobbly, and disjointed. You crash to the ground and hit your head on the little bench. The last thing you see before blacking out is a horsey grin staring back at you from the mirror.


	2. Dignity Intact

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The haze shrouding your mind is only penetrated by a few regular thumps. Other than that, your head hurts too much to process anything.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Horses dance before your eyes. One of them leans down, taking up your entire field of vision and whispers… “Locally grown butter lettuce.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

An echo digs its way through the haze and taps you on the nose. Your nose… your nose feels funny. What happened?

Pete…

What the hell had Pete gotten you into? That was the last time you blindly followed him into the ring of madness. Urgh, the ringing in your head…

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Sweetie, are you all right in there? It’s been 20 minutes, most are finished by now.”

You slowly open your eyes. Someone is knocking on the door. From your viewpoint on the floor, you notice that the door has a little pet door installed in the bottom. Interesting. You reach your hand up to lift yourself up and—

Where are your fingers.

You bring your other hand up to your face. It’s not a hand. Your fingers are gone. They’ve been replaced with a flat, hard disc. You try to stretch your fingers. You can’t. You just can’t. They don’t exist anymore. Your brain desperately searches for the muscles to tug upon, but it just can’t find them. The feeling that your fingers are trying to push their way out from behind the solid disks overwhelms you.

You’re going to vomit.

“Sweetie?”

The door in front of you opens, and you are momentarily blinded by the much brighter light coming in from the adjacent room.

“Oh, you poor thing, you look terrified!” A young woman stands in the doorway, her face full of concern. “I’m guessing this is your first trip?”

You nod weakly, and the woman bends over to pick you up. Before you even have time to be astonished that you are small enough to be picked up by this woman, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your jaw drops.

The creature looking back at you from the mirror can’t possibly be you.

Two massive, purple eyes stare back at you, twinkling even in the dim light of the room. Your mouth and nose have pulled out into a snout, and your ears seem to have travelled up your head, elongating and pointing themselves upward. Your hair… You have long blue hair that travels down your strangely long neck. Your arms and legs are long and spindly, topped with dark, flat discs… hooves. You’re entirely covered in orange fur.

You’re a pony.

You’re not just a pony, though, you note, as your eyes inch downward to the one area you were almost afraid to check.

You’re a stallion.

* * *

You shiver in the girl’s arms as she carries you into an open room. You’d managed to curl yourself into a ball, hiding your muzzle in between your forelegs, but at the sound of voices you peek your eyes out. The room is filled with Technicolor ponies. Ponies playing with humans. Ponies playing with each other. Just… being… ponies….

You stare in confusion at the scene in front of you, but are jerked out of your trance by the most amazing sensation you have ever felt. A whinny escapes your pouted lips despite yourself before you are even able to tell what’s going on. The girl is running her fingers through your hair… through your… mane… down your neck….

With an intense amount of effort, you turn your head and look into the girl’s eyes. She’s smiling at you, clearly knowing what effect her fingers are having on you.

“Please… please,” you whisper. “Please stop… Please tell me what’s going on…”

She frowns. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Where… where are my hands?” you whimper, starting to tear up a bit. “What’s… going… on?”

“I’m guessing you didn’t quite know what you were getting yourself into, now, did you sweetie?” the girl asks.

You shake your head fervently, your long ears flopping into your face.

“It’s okay precious, I’ll explain it to you.” The girl sits down in the corner, sets you in her lap, and starts stroking your mane again. The sensation of her fingers sliding off the back of your head and down your neck is ecstasy. You unconsciously start to rub your head into the girl’s hand, before realizing what you’re doing and retracting your head.

“Th-that’s amazing,” you whicker, looking down at your forehooves in shame. “Better than weed.”

“Mmm, you think that’s nice?” the girl laughs. “How about this?”

She takes her hand off your mane and starts to scratch behind your right ear. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Ohhh…” you moan.

The girl giggles. “It’s alright to enjoy it. That’s what Pon-E is about. It turns you into a cute little pony for 12 whole hours, during which all of your senses are magnified and every petting and every scratchy feels like heaven.”

“It… it d-does…” you stutter after she stops scratching your ear. You look up into the girl’s smiling eyes, and your lips start to tremble. You look down again and start to whimper.

“Sweetie, it’s alright, it really is,” the girl says, squeezing you tight in a hug. “This is a drug trip, remember? Who cares about dignity? You’re just here to have fun, and nobody here is going to blame you.”

You can’t help but smile at this, and you lift your head back up to face the girl. “T-thanks,” you say. “I guess you’re right. Pete was right. This is… this is amazing. More than anything I could’ve expected. And… and… I’m a stallion?”

The girl sticks her tongue out. “I’m guessing you weren’t male before you took the pill?”

You shake your head, and the girl starts rubbing softly behind one of your ears.

“Depending on the user, the effects of Pon-E can sometimes also consist of a gender-swap,” the girl explains amidst your soft moans. “Would it be fair of me to assume that you may not have necessarily been very happy being female?”

You stop moaning, emit a little “eep,” and hide your head beneath your forelegs. The girl softly squeezes you again. “I’m not judging you, honey. It’s just something we’ve seen a lot of here.”

“N-no…” you mumble, face still hidden under your forelegs. From your vantage point, you have a direct line of sight toward the most different body part this trip has granted you, and your face cracks into a little bit of a smile.

“No, no I really wasn’t,” you say, lifting your head up and looking at the girl. “I’ve… I’ve always felt like a boy on the inside. And… and now I sort of am one….”

The girl holds your chin and stares into your eyes. “You are a very handsome stallion, mister, and if that makes you happy, then just remember: we’re here for you. Pon-E is here for you.”

For the first time in a very, very long while, you break out into a smile.


	3. I'm In Trouble

Her name was Melanie, and you were in love with her.

In love with her hands, at least. You had no idea how long it had been–be it an hour or just five minutes–but the way Melanie caressed your belly made you feel like you were swimming on a cloud. It really was the most intense high you'd ever experienced, and it just kept going… and going… and going… until you found yourself lying on your back, tongue hanging out of your mouth, practically panting for more.

Drugs will mess you up, bro.

For a moment, you flash back to when you started doing drugs in the first place. You had just graduated high school, and it was clear that you weren't advancing to any further education. The school you went to didn't even have guidance counselors. It became day after day of lying around the house, and occasionally hunting for jobs. They didn't even want uneducated garbage truck drivers. The gender confusion only made things worse. Your parents noticed you binding your chest, and they noticed the packers in your room. Every day, your parents' moods got sourer, and every day you fell deeper into a hole. And then the day came that Pete invited you over to his apartment. _He_ had a job. Not a great one, but he still got paid minimum wage. And with that minimum wage, he produced in front of you a smelly, rolled up piece of paper filled with some strange green stuff.

The belly rubbing suddenly stops, and, retracting your tongue, you lift yourself up with your forelegs to see what Melanie was doing. To your surprise, she pulls a brush out of her bag.

"You're a handsome stallion, but your mane badly needs a brush!" Melanie giggles. She motions for you to roll over, and you do so, wincing as you land on your balls. You kept forgetting they were there, but the pain was just another reminder that things were… right. You bite your lip as the pain fades, and then rest your head on the floor in preparation for Melanie's brush.

"You're such a sweet thing, you," Melanie hums as she runs her brush through your mane. Every tug on your scalp pulled a cloud out of your eyes, and you stare up into the beautiful, blue sky.

A pair of green eyes stare back at you.

"There you are!" a voice suddenly cries out. You jump up onto all fours awkwardly, accidentally bumping your head into Melanie's brush in the process. A cheerful cyan mare stands in front of you.

"Hey, Anon!" she calls. "How you enjoying this? Was I right or was I right?"

Your eyes widen–and you weren't even sure they could get any larger with all of these reveals going on.

"…Pete?" you stammer. "Y-you're a mare?"

Pete giggles, and whips her purple, fluffy mane over to the other side of her head. "And you're a stallion," the cyan pony retorts. He… she trots up to you and Melanie, and sits on her tail. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Jfhollkfd sdofhsfhds," you continue to splutter. "Y-you wanted to be a girl?"

Pete rolls her eyes and gives you a smirk. "I _am_ a girl, sweetums, always have been. I just have never been able to truly be myself until I discovered Pon-E."

She gets back on all fours, and turns to face the rest of the ponies. You notice her cutie mark: a pair of scissors.

"Oh, and don't call me Pete," she says. "My name is Snips now."

You stare at her tail, dumbfounded. You want to ask, "You mean, like the colt from the show?", but somehow find yourself distracted by Snips's flanks. The way her tail swished slowly from side to side, partially obscuring her marehood…. Your new stallionhood begins to feel kind of funny.

You barely even hear Melanie gasp from behind you.

"You _named_ yourself?" she hisses at Snips. "You broke the rules!"

"Huh?" you say, snapping out of your reverie. You and Snips both turn to face Melanie, Snips snickering as she does so. "There are rules?"

"Pon-E is strong stuff," Melanie says. "There are some rules, well, more like guidelines, in place that help you stave off addiction."

"Addiction?" you ask. Somehow, in the sensual blur of the past hour, it didn't even occur to you that Pon-E might have some of the usual repercussions of other drugs.

"Yeah," Melanie says, nodding. "Don't name yourself. It reinforces your pony identify and eats away at your humanity. Don't use it alone, because you can't be controlled in case something goes wrong. Don't take it with other drugs or alcohol, because the mechanism of Pon-E isn't very well understood and no one knows what kind of drug interactions it may have. No sexual acts. None. If you think the sensations you're experiencing now are overwhelming, just try to imagine how addicting an orgasm as a pony might be."

You blush, remembering your earlier thoughts about Snips, and sit down on your rump. Snips just rolls her eyes and sits down as well as Melanie crouches down in front of you and taps your nose with her finger.

"And most importantly: never, ever, ever take more than two doses in 24 hours." A cold look materializes on Melanie's face, and her eyes glass over. "Pon-E may have only been around for a few months, but I've seen some things. The worst addicts are painful to watch. What you lose… I would rather die. And that's why I work here. There's no point in trying to stop people from doing the drug, so I may as well help them to do it safely, and enjoy myself in the process. You ponies… you're all so cute…."

She breaks off and stares silently into the distance for a moment, before Snips coughs and pats her on the back with a hoof.

"We'll keep that in mind," she says with a look on her face that certainly suggests the opposite.

Whatever trance Melanie found herself in is shattered. "Yes… good. You two be good little ponies. I'm going to go play with some of the others now, okay?"

She ruffles your mane, gets up and walks away. You can't help but whicker at that last petting, and you close your eyes in bliss for a few moments. When you open them back up, you realize Snips is snickering at you, and your ears fold down almost automatically in shame.

"Really enjoying being a pony, eh?" she asks. "And I'd assume you're also really enjoying being a dude?"

You blush, and look down. "Can you blame me?" you whisper.

She titters and trots over to you, nuzzling your neck. You flinch when she touches you, and you feel your downstairs equipment start to act up again.

"I don't blame you at all, sweetie," Snips says, soothingly. "I just wish you'd told me you were feeling gender confused. I've been coming here for a couple of months now, and you could've been enjoying this with me the entire time."

"Yeah…" you mutter, still staring at the floor.

"I like your cutie mark," she says. You jerk your head up to see Snips looking at your ass.

"Hey!" you yelp. "Quit looking at my ass!"

Snips giggles. "Shut up, I noticed you looking at mine."

You blush furiously and stare at the ground again.

"Your cutie mark, though," Snips says again. "I like it. Have you seen it?"

"No…" you mutter.

"It's a yellow star wearing a pair of glasses. You're a pretty stallion, you know that?"

Your blushing just intensifies.

"Hey," Snips says, lifting your head with her hoof so that you're looking directly into her eyes. "We're… we're good friends, aren't we?"

"I-I think so," you stutter. "Aren't we?"

"Yes," Snips whispers. "We are very close friends, and we're both experiencing something amazing here."

You whicker affirmatively, and Snips begins to nuzzle you again, closing her eyes and wrapping her neck around yours. The netherly tingling starts again, and you close your eyes to join her.

"Stargaze…" Snips breathes.

"What?" you ask, opening your eyes.

"Your name…. I'll call you Stargaze," she responds, eyes still closed.

"B-but, Melani–" you start to protest, but before you have time to finish the sentence, Snips smashes her horsey lips into yours and kisses you.


	4. Addiction

Time passes. It’s like a river, a constantly flowing river of soft, sinewy pony hair. It resists the crush of your teeth; its expected keratin taste diluted by something else. Your nostrils flare, and a flowery scent drifts into you; cradling your brain with cyan hooves.

You are so high right now.

Actually, you’re not, but you /are/ on the way back from the bowling alley, and there /is/ a police officer right on your tail, so to speak. You noticed him start to follow you as you stepped out of the bowling alley’s parking lot, and since then, he’s been silently, but very obviously, tracking you. You’re not afraid of getting arrested. You know that Pon-E isn’t illegal to take, only illegal to own, and your hooves—ugh, hands—are empty. You don’t really want him knowing where you live, though.

Still, bathed in the fading sensations of your transformation, you find it difficult to care very much at all about whether or not the police officer sees your obviously incredibly incriminating urine-stained bedsheets. Most of the awkward walk home was spent with your head in the clouds. You are only forced out of your reminiscent daydream by the familiar sight of the decaying Coca-Cola advertisement limply hanging on the side of your apartment block. Right. It was time to lose this guy.

You look behind you. The officer is still there, but, upon seeing you turn around, he fumbles and holds his phone up to his face as if he’s taking a call. You roll your eyes and pick your pace up a bit. The coffeehouse next to your building looks crowded as ever. Perfect. You make a sharp left turn and bury yourself in the tall, hipstery crowd.

The smell of burnt coffee hits your nose, and you frown as it chases away your happy daydream. More than that, the smell reminds you of every other time you evaded police officers using this coffeehouse. This time, at least, you weren’t being actively pursued, but you couldn’t help remember the time you almost didn’t make it out of the bathroom in time and the officer’s stagnant breath rolled down the back of your neck.

You shake your head. Enough of that. You push your way through the sea of baggy pants and ridiculously high collared shirts into the bathroom, wherein a small window lay unlocked as always. You grin, lift yourself up onto the toilet, and crawl through the window. Your breasts complain, threatening to draw you back in, but you suck in your chest as much as you can and push your legs against the other wall of the very small bathroom. With an “oof,” you find yourself lying on the floor of a dusty alleyway. It’s only a few moments before you round the corner, enter your apartment block, and press your back against the front door, eyes closed in the glow of your success.

“Hello sweet thing.”

Your eyes grow wide. All lasting bliss from your high vanishes. A groan escapes your lips as you open your eyes to find yourself face to face with the landlord’s son.

“Aren’t you looking good today?” he asks, smirking. Was he kidding? You were wearing unlaundered clothes radiating with the smell of spaghetti and your hair was practically glued to the back of your neck from sweat. Every second you spend looking at his smug grin amplifies the urge to sock him in the face.

But you can’t. Because he’s the landlord’s son. And other things.

“What do you want, Jim?” you ask.

“I was just wondering if you were up for a little fun later,” he says, leaning on the wall in a manner that he obviously thought was cool. “I’ve got some booze, maybe a little E, you know, just some fun.”

“A little E and then a little D?” you respond, rolling your eyes.

He frowns. “I think you mean a massive D.”

“And I think you need to leave me alone right now,” you snap back. “Can’t you see I’m not in the mood right now?”

“Hey, hot stuff,” he snarls, grabbing your collar and pushing his head into your ear. “You know the deal. You do the hippity dippity with me, my dad lets you live here for free. It’s been like two whole weeks now, my dick is practically crying.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did you just say hippity dippity?”

“Whatever, bitch,” he scoffs, turning around. “I /will/ see you later, though. You better shave. Last time your butt was so fucking hairy I could’ve sworn you were trying to grow a tail. Jesus.”

He walks away, and you smack yourself in the face. How the hell did you get yourself involved with this? Sure, okay, addicted to drugs, no job, barely any friends, yeah, you weren’t going to get an ideal apartment. But this jokester? Homelessness was seeming pretty luxurious right now.

You sigh, and ascend the stairs to your apartment. It was the same dark hole you returned to everyday. In your bedroom, you strip naked and sit in front of your mirror. The familiar sensation of phantom limb starts to emerge from the unwanted lips of feminine spoils.

God, being a stallion was nice. Even if sexual acts were forbidden.

It had been a month since your first witless encounter with Pon-E, and the highs had only gotten stronger. You actually found part-time work at another gas station just so you could afford to go back more often. The only problem now was time. Between work and 12-hour highs, your schedule was getting pretty cramped. But you needed more. Much much more.

As you try to wash your mind of the dim landlord’s son, the trip you had just left started to float back in. The familiar walls of the tiny changing room, the feeling of freedom when you stripped your clothes, sat on the bench, and eyed that little, saucy pill.

The changes always started at the extremities. The memory engulfs you. Your hands and feet starting to shake violently, flesh whipping and melding together into hard hooves.

The CRACK as your legs shorten and bend, forming the hock and gaskin of your hindlegs.

The moan that escapes your pursed lips as the base of your spine unfurls and your long, blue tail crawls out to say hello.

Squirming as pinpricks fire all over your body and short, orange fur infects every inch of skin.

Yelping as an invisible hand reaches out and pulls your face forward, pushing your nose and mouth into a long, furred muzzle.

Panting as your ears are kneaded to a point and jerked upward to the top of your head.

You never even notice yourself getting smaller. But you do notice, every single time, you do notice a silent mouth zipping its lips and pushing outward, upward, majestically and arousingly.

Melanie may have your best interests at heart, but it was becoming more and more difficult to follow her advice. You were alone this time—Snips hadn’t come with you—and you sought out some ponies to play with to distract yourself from giving your stallionhood the attention it—and you—craved.

But it was easy to “accidentally” find oneself curled up in the corner of the room, hooves hidden and back to the crowd. Just as easy as it was for Melanie to walk over, pick you up, and laugh as you frantically try to hide your boner. Her fingers carried with them a different magic, and for the most part, they were able to sooth your savage appetite. A few yanks on your mane and all else was forgotten. But still, the thoughts of dancing mares floated back to you.

No. God damn it, what the hell is your problem? Bestiality is fucking disgusting.

You snap back to the present and stare at yourself in the mirror. What the hell were you doing? Horses? Really? What happened to your dignity?

Oh yeah. You didn’t have any dignity.

You run your hands over your fleshy human body, pausing at the two spots that caused you the most discomfort. They were disgusting, but they were human. They were yours. Weren’t they?

But you hate them….

How bad… how bad could being a horse really be if you got to be loved all the time and if you got to be yourself?

Did you… how much did you actually care about being human?

Oh god. You’re an addict.

You clamp your eyes shut and push your forele—HANDS into your temples. It’s no use. Snips’s bobbing flanks swim into view, her tail swishing side to side.

“Stargaze, my strong stallion…”

You can literally feel her rump rubbing up and down against your cheek.

Your mind completely blanks. You awkwardly stand up, stumble over to the phone, and dial the number.

“Snips,” you breathe. “Can we… can we meet up?”

The voice at the other end giggles, and a smile breaks your lips.


	5. Where Do You Think You're Going?

"Have you ever thought about it?"

"Thought about it?" you replied.

"About, you know, being a guy. Forever," Snips whispered, rubbing her muzzle against yours. Your smile was wide, but confused.

"I don't know if I could afford it, Snippy," you had murmured back. "Surgery's a bitch and even these weekly trips are bleeding my wallet dry."

"I think," Snips responded, wrapping a foreleg around one of yours, "I think I know who I am. And I think it's more important to me than money or security or even... humanity."

The look on her face warped into a frown. "Stargaze, is meeting up like this, once a week in a public bowling alley; is this enough for you? Are you happy?"

You gave her lips a lick, and pushed your nose into hers. "I can't say I'm crazy about not having any time alone with you."

The smile that Snips responded with glowed so brightly in your memory. "Would you mind, though?"

Would I mind? Would I mind, forever? Would I?

The memory of last week's drug trip played in your head just as it had every morning for the past five days. The familiar landmarks on your daily walk to the bowling alley were not interesting enough to occupy your mind. Neither were the passing jeers of your boss at the gas station as your shift ended and he reminded you for the five thousandth time that you had breasts.

Those darn breasts. People seemed to reaaaally like breasts, but yours kind of just got in the way of things. For instance, last week's hideously embarrassing escapade. Horny ex-stallion making his way to a mare's apartment, ready for the ride of his life, only to end in embarrassed whispers and anxious pokings, a tit awkwardly shoved into an eye socket, a penis flopping lifelessly underneath a shameful carpet of sheer... wrongness.

No, if you were going to have sex with Snips, you were going to have to do it right.

"You've been here a lot lately," the girl at the counter says, smirking a bit.

"Uh, yeah?" you respond, handing over the money. "Is that a problem?"

She chuckles, counts the bills, and hands you the familiar red and black speckled pill. "Not really, I mean, business is business."

You give her a half-hearted smile back, and start to walk down the hallway. This pill, plus four others (backups!) that you had sneaked out over the last week, was going to ensure an interesting evening.

"It's just," the girl continues suddenly, "When you work in this line of business, you see a lot of... people. You know. People who don't always make the best decisions. People who play with fire."

"Mmm," you grunt in response.

"And, you know? It's just kind of weird." The girl at the counter suddenly leans over, grabs your arm, and pulls you close. "You used to come here with a guy. Is he okay?"

You frown, and shake her off of your arm. "She's fi--I mean, he's fine. Calm down."

She stares at you and puts her hands down. "Sorry," she mumbles. "I just... nevermind. Have a nice trip."

You start to walk down the hall again, and then glance back at the woman. She had sat back down and begun to count pills on the counter. It was far away, but you could swear you saw a tear begin to form in the corner of one eye. The people who worked here got weirder every time you visited.

Not that it was even any of her business what had happened to Snips.

You turn back around and find yourself face-to-face with Melanie.

"You've been here a lot lately," she says, staring into your eyes. Not again.

"Yeah, okay, that's great," you mumble, swerving around her and continuing down the hall. Couldn't anyone mind their own business?

"And yet," she continues, talking down the hall at your escaping back, "I feel like I haven't seen you at all. Where's that nice blue pony that used to play with me every time he came here?"

"I'm right here, aren't I?" you grunt. You glance down at your watch--it's a quarter to five. You're going to be late.

Melanie sighs and walks down the hall to you, wrapping her arms around your neck. "I worry about that poor pony. I feel like he's slipping through my protective fingers."

You stare at the wall, not turning around to look at her. "Can you get your arms off of me?" you ask derisively. "That kind of thing is only okay when I have fur."

She removes her arms, but then grips you and turns you around. Startled, you open your mouth, but find no words to describe the look of angst on Melanie's face.

"Don't you?"

"Melanie, you're scaring me," you respond.

"And you don't think you're scaring me, Stargaze?" she barks.

You freeze. No. "W-what did you call me?" you stammer. How could she know?

"I hear everything, sweetie," she whispers. "I know that you've been a bad pony, mister. I can see it in your eyes, too. You've gone too far."

Your mouth hangs open. Sounds slide out, slippery, horsey sounds, but instead of falling together into a word or sentence, they flop onto the ground and well up around Melanie's ankles. She wraps her hand around yours.

"Give me the pill," she whispers into your ear. Her other hand floats up to your head, and Melanie slowly starts to drag her fingers through your hair. Your eyes roll back into your head, and your unwillingly relinquish your sweaty grip on the pill in your hand.

Melanie smiles. "Good boy," she whispers, still stroking your hair. Her hand slides through yours, grasping the pill with two fingers. She dangles it in front of your face, presses it to your lips, and pushes it in.

"Swallow," she orders, taking her hand and rubbing it on your neck. The urge to wag your tail consumes you, and you obey with a gulp of spittle. She smiles again, withdraws her hand from your head, and turns you around.

"Now get in the changing room, mister Stargaze. I will meet you on the other side. Isn't everything better when people just follow the rules?" With a wink, Melanie slides out of the hall.

You turn your head to watch her retreat, and then shake your head. You spit the pill, safely contained between your lips and your clenched teeth, into your palm, and place it into the plastic baggie you brought along. "Fuckin' Melanie," you murmur, before making your way to the staff exit.

The bright sunlight outside the bowling alley shocks your poor pupils, as it always did after a stint in the poorly lit back-hallways of the bowling alley, but you press on and make a beeline to the south side of town. The gray apartment block, with its familiar dog-eared windows, beckons to you. You know that just inside that building is a girl who loves you.

And you know what? You love her too. After all the confusion with gender and species and friendships and just about everything going on in your life, it was hard for you to admit that you loved Snips. But it was not an unwelcome thought, not at all, not even when bathed in the painful memories of last week's encounter. You want to kiss that girl--that, that /mare/--and you want it to be right. You want it to be as right as a plate of spaghetti in the evening.

That was officially the dumbest simile you have ever come up with. But the pills worked. The pills smile to you from your pocket. It's not always easy or possible to know what one wants, but you know, right now, you know. Finding yourself in front of Snips's third-floor apartment, you insert the key she gave you, turn it, and then turn the doorknob.

You were as high as a kite, or well, you might have been. The sight before you certainly burns a hole in your potential high.

"Snips?" you yell, running into the bedroom. Empty. "Snips? Are-are you there?"

No answer. You run into the bathroom--nothing. You check the closets--nothing. Under the rug? That's silly, but yeah, nothing.

The entire apartment is empty.

"Snips?" you yell.

"Lady, please, can you keep it down?" responds a voice from behind you. You swivel around and find yourself face to face with a police officer. Your eyes grow to the size of dinner plates.

"Uh, hello officer," you mutter. "I'm sorry for making a disturbance."

"Nah, it's fine," the man responds casually. He walks awkwardly over to the kitchen table and drops a yellow piece of paper there. "Are you looking for the person who lives here?"

"Uh, yeah, I am," you reply. "Is something wrong?"

"Mmm, yeah," he says, heading out the door. "Arrested for drug possession or something. Hell if I know. Landlord is pretty pissed about it, though, and now I've gotta keep checking everyone's apartments to make sure she doesn't get embarrassed by a drug bust again."

Your eyes get even bigger, and your mouth shrinks down to the size of a paper clip.

"Drug bust?" you whisper.

"Yeah, fuckin' addicts. They're coming out of the woodwork," he jokes. "Hey, you weren't trying to sell him some drugs, were you, eh?"

He laughs and elbows you, and you half-heartedly laugh with him as you walk out of the apartment.

"You be good now, ya hear?" he chuckles, walking away. You nod, and then sit with your back against Snips's closed door.

She's gone. They took her away.

A single tear rolls down your left cheek.


End file.
